Indecision
by Lavenderangel
Summary: Nothing's fair when you're 11. Written for the 2008 Mallory round at Short takes.


"We were stupid when we were eleven," Mallory decided, nudging Jessi with her toe.

"Hmmm?" Jessi glanced up from the book she was reading, eyes distant.

"We were stupid when we were eleven," Mallory repeated.

"What eleven year old isn't stupid?" Jessi shut her book.

"I'm not stupid," Claire called from across the room, somehow managing to not break rythem on the dance dance revolution game she was feriously playing.

"Whatever," Mallory told her. Then, in an undertone to Jessi: "I guess high school seniors shouldn't say whatever."

"Not ones that want to be writers," Jessi smiled. It was nice to see that look on her face again.

"Mals?" Claire called. Mallory refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Clairebug?" Jessi answered for her.

"Will one of you play with me? One player is boring."

"Your turn," Jessi told her.

"You're the dancer," Mallory objected. At the look in Jessi's eyes though, Mallory wordlessly got to her feet. "Pick a song, Silly Billy."

"I told you not to call me that," Claire huffed, pushing hair off her flushed face.

"I can't help that it sticks," Mallory protested, reaching out to fix her ponytail.

"Can you help that I still need a babysitter? It's not fair."

"Nothing's fair at eleven, Clairbug," Jessi interjected.

"Is that true, Mals?" Apparently, her nickname was sticking as well. Ben had called her it as a joke on a valentine he'd tried to send her at riverbend. Somehow it had gotten intercepted by Nicky, and when she'd come home for spring break everyone in the family had started using it religiously.

"It's very true," Mallory sighed. "But I'll talk to mom, okay? You should start being alone on some afternoons, you're right."

Claire smiled - and promptly started the game without warning.

"Cheater!" Mallory cried, no real fight behind the word. Her spirits rose further as Claire and Jessi laughted in unison. It was hard to make Jessi laugh about anything, these days. And there was something about Claire's giggle that would always remind Mallory of the sixth grade.

---

"You need a bigger bed," Jessi murmured against Mallory's shoulder.

"Ah, don't you like snuggling?"

"Sometimes," jessi admitted. "It's cold.

"You're just far too thin. C'mere." Mallory flipped over, embracing Jessi. Dark hair fell across Mallory's chest as Jessi went stiff. Mallory prayed she wouldn't pull away. Being direct with Jessi usually did the trick, got her to give in. Just as she was about to draw back, to apologize, there was a losining in the other girls shoulders, and Jessi's cheek nessled in the hollow between Mallory's neck and shoulder.

"I love you, Mals." The sentence was thin and breathy, almost lost completely against Mallory's skin. Jessi's ribs were far too prominent beneath her cottin shirt, and Mallory strengthined her hold. Out of both of them, she'd never expected Jessi to need the taking care of.

"Jess, you know I feel the same."

"But you don't. We both know you don't." Her words mingled with tears now, and Mallory felt sick. "I can't lose you, too." Please, Mal? Can't we pretend?"

"Seniors in high school don't pretend," Mallory chided, even though she wanted to agree. She wanted to pretend that seniors in high school didn't suffer from bulimia, didn't quit the sport they loved to try and control a disorder they denied having.

"Please," Jessi begged. Her voice sounded small now, not simply in volume. Again, Mallory was reminded of her youngest sister. Not of the temper tantrums Claire used to have, but of the quiet tears she'd shed when she'd learned why Vanessa went to see a school counselor twice a week, why she'd seen blood on that sweater when she'd been folding laundry.

"Just for a little while," Jessi pleaded. She lifted her face to meet Mallory's eyes. Mallory's skin was left cold, exposed and wet by her friends tears. "Just for tonight."

In the end, Mallory couldn't decide what made her give in. Was it the look in Jessi's eyes, so wide and empty in her far too thin face? Or was it Mallory's own desire, in spite of everything, to go back to being eleven.

Eventually, she decided it was because being seventeen really didn't mean you were all that smart, either.


End file.
